


Jack's Plan

by storiesfortravellers



Category: Kings
Genre: BDSM, M/M, Manipulation, Sex as a Weapon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 05:14:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesfortravellers/pseuds/storiesfortravellers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack usually manipulates to get what he wants; that's how he stays in control. David, though, is more of a challenge.  (Dark themes). Written for a prompt at comment_fic on livejournal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jack's Plan

Silas would manipulate situations and then call it divine intervention. Jack knew the trick well, though he tended to use it for different purposes.  
Jack would arrange convoluted ways for his object of seduction to 'somehow' end up in bed with him.  
Maybe they would find themselves trapped in one of Jack's private retreats, unable to leave because of weather or fear of reporters. Jack would get drunk and "reveal" his secrets, telling his soon-to-be-lover about his feelings, how wrong these feelings were, very wrong. He had played the "never been with a man" card dozens of times, weeping that he was too afraid to give in to his deepest desires, wondering if the love of a good man might be just what he needs to find the courage to become a great king some day. Or maybe, if he could be with a man once, he could have a memory to cherish later, when the burdens of ruling a nation grew heavy. If only there were someone honest and true enough to trust with his serets, to trust with his precious royal body....

And then it would seem like serendipity, or destiny, that they were there together. And the beautiful young man of the week would feel like he was making a noble contribution to the royal dynasty, that he was doing his patriotic duty.

This worked like a charm.

So well, in fact, that Jack was sick of it.

Even though David, naive little small-town David, who could never let pass an opportunity to get involved in a crisis bigger than himself - he would be perfect for this game.

But something about David made Jack want to try something different. To appeal to his baser instincts rather than his better ones. To win a victory over David by getting him in bed, not because of David's nobility or patriotism or heroism - Jack had had enough of that -- but by excavating something else in David, something bitter and dark. Something spiteful.

He wanted to David to be disgusted at him. Enraged at him. Vengeful. He wanted to be fucked senseless for not being good enough.

So he tried. A night out. Passive aggressive comments all night. Inappropriate snobbery toward David's hometown. Clear statements that he wasn't good enough for Michelle. Hints that the royal family thought of him as a pathetic housepet.

Then saying some nice things. Asking pardon for all those things he said. Convincing David to come back to a secret apartment. To get away form Silas' prying eyes. Bringing out the cognac and overdoing it.

Then telling David that he was the source of those tabloid pictures. That he wanted to bring David down to his level.

"Why would you tell me this?"

"So you'll have the chance to stop me from doing it again."

"What?"

"Stop me. Get back at me for what I've done. Or I will do it again, I swear." Jack grabbed David's shoulders forcefully and kissed him hard, moving his tongue in way he was sure the country boy had never experienced.

"What are you - are you blackmailing me?"

Jack closed his eyes. "No. But there's only one way you can get away with hurting me, and I'm telling you to do it." He opened his eyes expecting to see David look bewildered and confused and appalled.

Instead, he looked wary. And he said, "I don't think I can do what you want me to do." He said it apologetically but firmly.

Jack felt a wave of desperation, the cold gutshot of rejection. "Will you try?"

David looked away, forehead wrinkled in some emotion Jack couldn't read.

"Please try. Do this to me."

"I can't."

"Do this for me." This wasn't what Jack wanted. He wasn't supposed to play the 'I need you to save me' game.

But he repeated himself, "Do this for me. Hate me, David. And hurt me. Then forgive me. Please do this for me."

David peered at him, not gently. Trying to discern something, Jack guessed. His jaw twitched, and he sighed, but then he said, "All right."

"I want you to make me cry. I want you to make me beg you to stop." Jack waited for a reaction, fear or repulsion or arousal.

But David simply repeated, looking solemn as ever, "All right."


End file.
